Pronunciation of Silence
by scubapus
Summary: Following in HUNK's footsteps was a tall order but one Vector relished, respecting his superior like no other. Still, even his tireless devotion and determination could not erase the divide that defined them.


**Author's Notes: **

What do I say about this one?

I've integrated Vector into my mental storyline but hadn't given him time in the spotlight otherwise. I find him fascinating as he exhibits a degree of human reaction and volatility that one wouldn't expect from HUNK's protege. I intended to tie this into a larger plot, hence a couple moments that could raise brows if read as a standalone.

I prefer to treat Wolfpack as canon characters. Better for Capcom to make them and allow me to use artistic license to cover some plot holes.

Originally planned to be a oneshot, I'm not opposed to adding future chapters if the mood strikes.

* * *

_So, if you are too tired to speak, sit next to me as I, too, am fluent in silence._

_\- R. Arnolds._

* * *

Stone cold were the corridors of Rockfort Island, silent save for the audible grip of tactical boots and the single crumb of gravel he absently kicked.

Janitorial duty was skimping - that much had been proven obvious. That single rock, however small, had incriminated them. It failed to matter that dozens of men marched through the grounds with mud-caked boots. In the military, there were strict standards and no excuses.

Vector made a mental note to take record of it and submit it to their superior officer. Corrective action would occur as a result. Soldiers were forbidden from skating the rules and punishment was the best way to reinstate the high standard upheld through their military.

Had he ever been substandard, he, too, would have received disciplinary action.

He had only fucked up once.

* * *

Two miles from the outskirts of Raccoon City, Umbrella operatives had retrieved them. Wolfpack had been rounded like tired cattle by numbers that exceeded theirs five-to-one - odds in their favor had they not been exerted and dry on ammunition.

The five of them had been apprehended, laden with sick feelings in their gut. How bullshit it would have been to have survived the chaos that had been Raccoon City and then be simply gunned down by their employers. That could have been the cost of war. But it had not happened. They had been cuffed and disarmed, their masks torn from their contemptuous faces, shepherded onto choppers and transported to a location unknown to them, far from Rockfort.

There, they still hadn't been lined up and assassinated as expected. Vector had caught the guarded but confused glances of his teammates but hadn't been any differently informed or insightful. They had eventually been released from their shackles and placed in a cell of a room - blank, cold, and featureless.

An indeterminable period of time passed. The mental clocks in their heads ticked on loudly, counting the minutes until their potential demise. They had been parched, starving, and covered in the filth of their mission...yet been regarded by Command as something more repulsive.

Had he not intervened, surely their corpses would have already been incinerated.

Abruptly, HUNK had entered the room, breaking the heavy silence that had settled on the team. Under one arm he carried a package of plastic water bottles. His first order of business had been to place them on the ground in front of the seated and anxious soldiers.

So familiar with his superior, Vector had been astonished that HUNK had been unarmed. That Matilda, the pistol synonymous with the soldier, was nowhere to be seen in his holster or hands.

Later, he would recognize her absence as HUNK's method of easing their minds - not that Death was any less capable of ending them without her, but all visible threats had been intentionally banned from his presence.

That had been the first time the other members of Wolfpack had seen him unmasked. Some of them had dared to catch the eyes of the others, as though searching for their reactions, and all looked toward Vector for a split second.

None of them needed to. They could all identify HUNK solely on his composure and the discipline that emanated from him.

The tip of his stubbled chin toward the bottles was the sign they needed to claw at the packaging and twist at bottle caps, chugging down the refreshments desperately. They finished two bottles each, with Beltway draining three. Lupo used two palmfuls of water to rub at her freckled face, while Spectre did the same to the back of his crooked neck.

HUNK waited, impassively, allowing them to compose themselves. Vector was the first to utter a grateful, "Sir."

Thirst had trumped everything up until then, but now with that need satisfied, a sense of consolation hit him. The last anyone had seen of HUNK had been when he had shut the door on them back down in Birkin's lab. The scientist had mutated into a freakish and fierce creature that had pursued them, through scalding steam and scorching chemical fire, through the underground passageway. They had witnessed Birkin smashing unexpectedly through a solid cement wall and seizing their superior officer by his head, throwing him effortlessly through the broken barrier, and hadn't expected even then for him to come to their rescue.

Wolfpack had reached a sealed door and turned to face their adversary, fearing they had had no other choice, when their superior unexpectedly intervened. HUNK had overridden the locks and granted their team an escape, ordered them to update Command about all that had happened, and had then taken it upon himself to face the grotesque monstrosity alone and search for the G-sample he had been directed to retrieve.

HUNK had left the unit stunned by his fearlessness. To witness his reputation in action had been inspiring and yet sobering, as they had just ran for their lives from the infected creature. Vector had grappled with abandoning his post, having felt strongly about wanting to fight alongside his mentor - but orders were orders, commanded directly from the man he respected most. Even physical force had been used to thrust their most hesitant members through that door.

Radio silence had plagued Umbrella when contact with HUNK had ceased. His fate was believed to have fatal despite his reputation, his motto of _The Death Does Not Die_ ringing hollow...as far as Wolfpack's understanding. The only update they had received from Command had been when they had been dispatched back to Raccoon City in order to destroy evidence of Umbrella's involvement in the outbreak. According to them, HUNK had still been AWOL. Vector had been too preoccupied with his own survival to question the validity of Command's claims.

There was no better proof of HUNK's survival than seeing him there, in that room, standing before them. A contusion had bloomed from a knot on his temple but otherwise, he appeared in stable condition. Vector would later learn, when catching up with his superior, that he was still recovering from a concussion he had sustained, as well as fractured ribs. And he had been informed, directly from the source, the events that had lead to HUNK's success.

In that gruff voice of his, HUNK had addressed Wolfpack, disclosing more about their fate than anyone else had up until that point.

"Command wants you dead," he stated bluntly. "I have officially disputed their decision and defended you on your behalf. Given the circumstances, I contested their misappropriation and have requested that you remain operators of the USS."

Umbrella's stance had been expected. One was not employed by such a criminal entity - in a covert security service privy to their bioterrorism, no less - without fatal ramifications. What confused them was the Alpha leader's diversion from that standard. HUNK had no tolerance for failure. But here he was, in an unanticipated turn of events, giving them back their lives...as much as they could be, given Umbrella's ownership of them.

Surely all of them felt some degree of shame. They could not contest the fact that they had not accomplished the objectives assigned to them. While they had destroyed evidence and a number of civilians, they had been outnumbered.

Arguably that was preferable to outmatched, but the results remained the same.

One could argue that even the infamous HUNK couldn't have succeeded, if for no other reason than because it was physically impossible for their few members to track down the civilians in an entire city - while gunning down zombies and the US military presence that had set in.

All odds had been stacked against them. They had been set up for failure - a truth their superior officer would soon acknowledge.

But before then, Wolfpack stewed in disappointment in themselves. It was Beltway who spoke up, sounding less animated than Vector had ever heard him.

"But why, Sir? We failed our mission. There ain't any denyin' that."

HUNK, arms behind his back and posture as strict as ever, had regarded them with his neutral composure.

"While it is true that failure is never an option, I see promise in your unit," he explained in that deep, scratchy voice, "It is my determination that your shortcomings can be corrected. It is no better to recruit green soldiers as replacements and start from a blank slate...rather your team has already established a promising foundation.

"Save for Vector," said with a directive and terse nod toward him, "none of you have trained alongside me and received my guidance. You should not be held accountable for the shortcomings of the commanders who failed to properly prepare you. I do not regard soldiers of your expertise as expendable. There is little sense in destroying a soldier whose skills can be honed if battle had not killed them already. The experience you gained from the outbreak is invaluable."

None of them could refute or argue his stance. His valuation of them had saved their asses. Had Umbrella not respected him so highly and desperately required him for their operations, chances were that his requests to spare them would have been unsuccessful.

Following that, HUNK had led them to a separate section of the base to provide them with MRE's and separate them for individual debriefing. Absent were the representatives from Command who were traditionally responsible for cross-examining the soldiers post-mission. That had raised brows. Only Vector had inquired as to why.

"A security precaution," HUNK had responded. "One imposed by myself and Command in mutual agreement, minimizing the event that conflict will occur.

"They will perform their own debriefing at a later time. They will need reaffirming that you and the other members of Wolfpack will remain loyal to the Umbrella Corporation. Until then, I will personally oversee and administer protocol."

And he did, going so far as to stand guard as they stripped their soiled gear and showered. His presence, however silent and blind to their nudity as it was, served as a constant reminder of their vulnerable standing. While he was a commander of the USS, he was not traditionally responsible for maintaining such a direct involvement with Delta team. In effect, he had dominated Lupo's role. For as fierce of a woman as she was, she appeared as exhausted as the rest of them...and grateful to let HUNK, a more seasoned leader, dismiss her and take charge.

He understood Umbrella far better than any of them.

When asked about their weapons, HUNK explained that they wouldn't be in possession of them for an undetermined period of time.

"An unnecessary precaution for soldiers of your aptitudes but inevitable given the volatile circumstances. Your munitions will be secured until I am cleared to release them back to you. I will see to their safekeeping. Until further notice, you are dismissed."

Later, after more of the dust had settled, they would be informed that HUNK had managed to recover a vial of the G and deliver it, intact, to Umbrella. That the executives had received their precious G-virus hadn't mattered to Wolfpack. Instead, their reactions to the situation were focused on HUNK's survival and feeling pride for the success of one of their own. Based on his reputation, of fucking course he had succeeded in retrieving the sample. He wouldn't have bothered with extraction if he hadn't, always prioritizing his mission above himself. HUNK rejected failure perhaps even more than Umbrella did, unwilling to accept a tarnished reputation.

If anything, Vector was pissed that Umbrella had been rewarded for their shitty behavior, regardless if his superior's accomplishment had helped saved their hides.

HUNK was the last human on earth to inflate or otherwise exaggerate his accounts. He had no reason to - not only was he brutally factual but his record spoke for itself. And Wolfpack had witnessed the nightmare that Raccoon had been reduced to: a necropolis on which blood rained, overrun by the undead. Infection had pulsed through the veins of the streets and rotted the city from within.

To their intense attentiveness, the Alpha Commander had described his path in retrieving the G-virus and making his escape. Despite his neutrality, the mission sounded hellish. In the condition he had been in, with his limited resources, who else could have fought through the sewers and then the police station when everywhere had been saturated with BOWs?

No one else, Vector was damn sure of it. And to think HUNK had built a career of beating such impossible odds. In other words, Raccoon City was far from the first nightmare HUNK had survived and would perhaps be further from the last.

* * *

Vector gained pride from the martial arts masters he had trained under. He had settled for no less than the best of the best and been a student to each and every one of them. Through hard work and perseverance, he had remained under their tutelage until he had earned their proud dismissal.

Then he had encountered HUNK, who had been similarly educated in the same modality but not as extensively. Instead, he had branched off into numerous styles of fighting. He had succeeded in proving that a single methodology was faulty, however specialized in and perfected.

HUNK reiterated the theory that a solid defense was vital and the key to being successful in hand to hand combat. A fighter on the offense was worthless if he could not land a hit.

"True self defense involves effectively disarming the opponent and ensuring, by any and all means, that they are incapable of inflicting damage," he instructed. "Defense should always be a priority and enforced continuously, regardless of one's confidence."

No matter how many days, months, _years _passed, his mentor's words played through his head. They came when needed, reminding him of his training. They recited in his ears at night, as he recalled the events through which he had fought. The man himself stated them again and again as they clashed, hand to hand, or as he corrected him, deflecting his lightning fierce kicks or catching and controlling his punches.

Solid words stirred into fluid motion.

"Ease of execution is imperative," HUNK stated. "Complex motions increase the odds that they will be intercepted or otherwise interrupted. Choose simple maneuvers instead - those that can be executed quickly and cleanly.

"Your goal is to defend and immediately attack your assailant. Early damage inflicted to the aggressor lessens the duration within which they can cause harm. In that same vein, it is imperative to take charge of the situation and command the upper hand in order to control the outcome as soon as possible.

"Regardless of experience, one must accept that he will never be able to account for all uncertainties, therefore he should follow stipulations in order to best adapt to the unknown. One is to be capable of self-defense in any orientation and position. Environment is also an element of that and is vital, as it cannot be altered as easily as one's body.

"Never rely on strength alone in hand to hand combat. One must always assume that their opponent is stronger or otherwise advantageous. Attempting to overcome an adversary through brute force can result in avoidable injury. Similarly, one must always be aware of potential ambushes and scan for threats after the completion of every action.

"Always create angles when defending. This creates a channel between you and your enemy and lessens your exposure to subsequent attacks, armed or not. Unless necessary, refrain from taking the fight to the ground as it is limiting and makes one additionally vulnerable to multiple assailants as well as lessens your opportunities for escape.

"It is important to regard techniques as a component of self-defense instead of methods, as the act of self-defense should be an interconnected system of principles that can be built upon each other to suit various scenarios and circumstances.

"Traditionally de-escalation techniques are taught during self-defense training but do not apply to our missions. Your judgement is key regarding whether or not you appear to comply with an attacker's demands in order to open a window of opportunity against them.

"I teach with strict emphasis on simultaneous defense and offense. There are no separate and discrete actions, rather one must disrupt an attack with a simultaneous counterattack. The goal, again, is to disable the opponent as instantaneously and effectively as possible in any given situation.

"Opportunistic weapons are to be utilized but not relied upon. Your deadliest weapon is your body, but items both traditional and improvisational can be also be integrating in neutralizing the enemy.

"Do whatever is necessary to preserve oneself and complete the mission. There is no fighting etiquette. Incapacitate the opponent by any means necessary, with focus on soft tissues and pressure points. The eyes, nose, throat, and groin, for example, are not organs that develop muscle and are not guarded by adipose, therefore even your physically strongest opponent is not immune to their damage.

"We will repeat these lessons frequently until you achieve fluid muscle memory. As you know, there are differences between what your mind understands and your body knows. In time, you will be capable in trusting either to achieve victory, and the other will serve as reinforcement…Then nothing will stand a chance against you."

"Not even you?" asked Vector, breathless at the time and driven more to that point when considering the possibility.

HUNK had locked gazes with him, and he goddamn _swore_ he saw the hint of amusement in those piercing eyes.

"What," he asked in that rough baritone, "you think I'm foolish enough to teach you everything?"

* * *

Vector acknowledged that he would never be HUNK. Could never be such a loyal soldier to a bullshit bunch of idiots. He wasn't without flaw, he knew - he was very different than his mentor to that effect, no matter how diligently he tried to correct him. In contrast to HUNK's unyielding and intransigent stability, his subordinate was far more vagarious...if his reaction to Command's abandonment had been any indication.

Vector simply had a degree of anger that he could not contain or choke off once it occurred. He struggled with feigning respect for those who failed to earn it and bending to the will of ignorant superiors. Perhaps that was why he regarded HUNK so highly - and not only that, but revered him: because he was elite in his proficiency. He had never encountered someone who so fully embodied a soldier.

HUNK was silently ruthless. He was ice - an emotionless automaton adept at accomplishing his objectives no matter the outrageous circumstances. Why Wolfpack had even been sent in to assist Alpha unit had been behind Vector, as he knew perhaps more than anyone how capable his mentor was at his missions. If anything, serving alongside HUNK proved only to put subordinates in their place and emphasize any deficiencies they had.

Vector did his damndest to emulate his superior. He wanted to follow in his footsteps, even if he couldn't indefinitely endure Umbrella's bullshit. But he had known then that the corporation wasn't going to last. If Raccoon City didn't incriminate the pharmaceutical entity and result in its destruction, a future event would. With the human element still part of their equation, fuckups were bound to happen. Raccoon City had only been the first.

Until then, he planned to serve HUNK for as long as he could. He didn't owe Umbrella shit. He was in it to learn and further his skills, intent on perfecting his trade as HUNK had proved possible. So far, it seemed he would remain the first and only protege the Alpha commander had taken, and he was proud of it. Like hell he would ever disappoint.

Disappointment had been his assignment, it had turned out given that he hadn't been appointed as Delta Team leader. He respected Lesproux but his aspirations ranked higher than being her recon specialist.

Back before feeling so dispensable, he had goals of outperforming Lupo or even establishing his own unit. It could have been assumed that Umbrella had given HUNK the order to train a protege in order to replace him in the event of his demise or further enforce their military presence, if not outright expand it.

But back then, they hadn't expected for shit to hit the fan. The risk of critical failure was always present, given the criminality of their trade and the contagious nature of their viruses, but they had always succeeded in stifling and silencing any threats to their security.

Then Raccoon City had happened.

"I fucked up," HUNK had conceded to him in private, following the aftermath. While he would immediately go on to explain his train of thought - simultaneous proof and reinforcement of his suspicion that the stoic soldier was always working something in his mind - Vector hadn't needed explanation to immediately understand his direction.

They had been disposing of bloody bandages. Polishing boots. Rubbing down firearms and cleaning rifle bores. Oiling munitions components. Restoring order to the disorder that was their atypical job.

Needless to say, Vector's fullest attention became his...as it always did, with this man he so powerfully respected.

"That damn soldier…" The one who had poured half a clip of hot lead into Birkin. "I should have stopped him. Disobedient...paranoid...a liability, clearly. But further from that, the outbreak would not have resulted had I not ensured Birkin's demise with a single shot to the head. Then searched his body, because how was intel to know precisely how many samples of G he had?"

Frowning, Vector tried to deflect for the sake of his leader. "What's to say he wouldn't have mutated anyway?"

"Knowing the nature of G, I suspect he would have had to inject himself after sustaining injury or else he would have already demonstrated signs of infection. Still, mistakes were made that were entirely avoidable."

"But we were hurried, aware that the US military was in pursuit. They tripped the alarms, after all."

"We were more capable of handling them than the full-scale outbreak that occurred," pointed out his superior, with a vague shake of his head. "They were a joke, even with their numbers. The fallout of Birkin managing to inject himself cost us not only Alpha team but almost your lives - valuable human resources that prove difficult to adequately replace. And Umbrella - they sustained damage that will not be repaired."

Vector tried not to read into HUNK acknowledging the losses to their unit first, as it was not necessarily listed in importance. Perhaps the commander had mentioned Umbrella secondly because the result was so strongly known and implied.

But then Vector had come to understand that many underestimated how highly HUNK valued his subordinates. The first thing he had done, after handing over G to his commanding officers, was inquiring about Wolfpack's whereabouts and condition. And he had possibly risked his own neck in making demands about their fate. Despite his favorable position with the executives, even HUNK had had to assume disciplinary action for what had occurred as result of the botched mission.

Instead, they had not held him accountable. If anything, they had appreciatively dismissed him.

"Doesn't seem like Umbrella gives much of a shit," commented Vector dryly.

"Unexpectedly, no. Umbrella has utilized the entire outbreak as an extensive demonstration - one massive experiment. Operation Watchdog assisted in compiling evidence throughout it, collecting tactical data with focus on the human element. The UBCS were dispatched as test rats and the US military provided a more adequate sample of organized response."

"So that asshole Ginovaef," sneered Vector, acrimony dripping through his teeth, "he survived?"

"Sole survivor," answered HUNK, familiar with the terminology.

Ginovaef had a record the most similar to HUNK's, though he had not been the one to be acclaimed as Death - with reason. The man lacked skill and instead accomplished his feats as a manipulator and narcissistic _opportunist_.

"Means he took out his own unit," Vector spat with disgust. Wolfpack had encountered the sick fuckhead in the middle of it all - as he had tried to undermine and dispose of them.

It was a well-known fact that in the dictionary, under _sadist_, was a photograph of that bastard's scarred Soviet mug.

Vector dared to think that HUNK turned his back to him in order to hide an essence of contempt from his visage - under the guise that he was merely hanging his tactical vest. It had undergone thorough inspection, just as everything else had or would, to ensure it was in sufficient condition for their next assignment.

"As you witnessed first-hand, Umbrella was able to deploy their MA-121α's via airdrop. MA-121βs were also released, though Wolfpack did not encounter them. Raccoon City was also the first full-scale field exercise for the T-00 series, conducted by the SH-60B Seahawk. Lastly, the Nemesis-T Type was utilized. Though initially faulty, Wolfpack demonstrated that parasitic replacement can be successfully performed.

"Despite the fallout, Umbrella considers the event to be a success on multiple accounts. In truth, while the corporation may suffer the consequences of exposure, the real executives have their scapegoats lined up and are likely to escape unscathed. In effect, the utility of their BOWs has been proven and the data can more effectively advertise their products to their buyers."

The reality that HUNK painted pissed Vector off. To think those fuckups were above the law proved that money could excuse people from their failure. In cramming their own pockets full of riches, the executives were just as much opportunists as Ginovaef was. They would profit heavily while watching the corporation they didn't even build burn to ashes.

"Where does that leave us?" he growled, concerned yet again with the fate of the USS and feeling that HUNK had only bought them time before being led to the slaughterhouse.

Like fuck he would be paraded before the government and be put on trial to pay for ungrateful bastards. He was a proud criminal and accepted that fact without conviction.

HUNK turned back to him, finally, and crossed his arms impassively over his broad chest. His biceps, covered by his uniform, bulged within the fabric constraints. Cobalt eyes were already scrutinizing the leaner man, anticipating his reaction.

"The USS is to remain under their direct command, same as always. They will not be without enemies and require protection, particularly with such valuable data in their possession. The world will know of Umbrella's dissolution and that includes their competitors who will strategize to hit them at their weakest."

Which meant more work for them - a risk Vector invited, as nothing intimidated them and as it was, he felt their skill sets were underutilized enough as it was. Still, he would rather side with the enemy and slit the executive's throats himself - a fact he didn't dare admit to HUNK, though it was one he knew already.

He would fail that test every time. Unlike his mentor, he was human.

"It is my understanding," continued HUNK quietly, "that Spencer is taking measures to accuse the US government of conspiring to frame Umbrella for an exercise of their own. He has top lawyers at his disposal and can employ false witnesses to testify but no one can yet determine how many legitimate survivors there are - or how many actually know anything incriminating. We may soon be deployed to assassinate survivors once his moles determine their whereabouts...but those who are not in protective custody, and therefore can't be account for, will be valuable wildcards for the prosecutors."

"What a fucking mess that we shouldn't have to clean up," huffed Vector, not for the first time wishing he had never encountered the recruiter that had located him, had never listened to him, had never taken their bait.

But then he would have never met the man who had shown him the utmost acceptance and proved that there was still much more to achieve. And he would have never encountered the breed of soldier he strived to be.

It was their bond and visceral understanding of each other that spared him HUNK's correction. Because of it, his mentor allowed him to vent his frustrations and doubt in their command. He could not allow himself to relate - Vector was not as self-sacrificing and obstinately loyal as HUNK was, but for the first time, the superior soldier gave him an out and, in effect, dismissed him from his duties.

A reality that Vector hadn't fathomed was possible, his concrete heart skipping a beat as HUNK said those unexpected words: few, and terse, but impactful.

"No," he had agreed stoically, but with monumental importance, "_you _shouldn't have to."

_He won't like it, _they had written about him, in a document Vector later uncovered but one that made no difference. _But he'll follow orders…_

_He'll follow us into Hell if we asked him._

A truth that had never changed, but one that had never been enacted. Knowing the narcissistic nature of the executives, Vector understood that they would never have spared anyone - even their most loyal soldier - the fate they would inevitably face…And knowing HUNK as he did, his protege understood with clarity that he would have willingly sacrificed himself...unless…

There was only one possibility, Vector knew and racked his mind over. Had someone _ordered_ HUNK to relieve himself of Umbrella and if so...who?

* * *

Their sparring matches were up there in his favorite activities. They were certainly the most challenging and offered the most insight into what interested him most: becoming the best there was.

Only against HUNK was there competition. Vector was well-versed in hand-to-hand combat. His background in the martial arts demanded it and had been tested against nearly every modality of fighting. It had been his accumulation of skill and instinct that had initially impressed the Alpha commander and gotten him a shoe-in to qualifying for the USS.

Vector had fought physically stronger men, and faster, but no opponent was more efficient than HUNK. Often it left him dumbstruck how such minimal movement could render him debilitated. The effect never lasted, as they had to remain combat ready and able to report to duty at any moment's notice. If anything, pulling hits and limiting damage required yet another level of training.

He was on his back, again, and breathless. It had taken HUNK some time to best him - that or the operative had been playing with him, having been known to lure opponents into false confidence.

Experienced as he was, Vector didn't know how he had ended up there, staring at the overcast sky, boots muddy and uniform coated with clay.

HUNK stood above him, crossing his arms after just having recovered from the throw. His mouth was firm, jaw strong and eyes their usual neutral. He stared down at his protege as though anticipating a retaliatory maneuver.

"Bastard," spat the grounded man. He made no real attempt to upright himself.

They had been sparring for how long, an hour? Two? It was nearly impossible to tell when adrenaline ran high and his senses became hyper focused. He didn't dare think of anything but his partner during their matches - or else something like this happened. His mentor continuously searched for openings and detected them with the acuteness of a hawk.

Vector collected his breath and then released it, allowing his head to fall back against the dirt. Then closed his eyes for a split second - until he heard fabric shift and parted his lids again, greeted with the sight of the blonde man offering a firm hand.

The way his eyes flickered from that extended hand to search for signs of tension in HUNK's forearm gave him away and he knew it. He more briefly considered testing his luck and accepting it with the intention of locking his opponent into a hold but decided against it. Instead, the Japanese man snorted defiantly and pushed himself up to his feet, inwardly grimacing as his sweaty skin separated from clothing.

"What was it this time?" he growled, feeling that anger of his boiling slowly to the surface. How could it not? It seemed that no matter how hard he tried, HUNK could seize any situation and knock him off his feet.

Unnerving, to say the least.

"Too much weight in your hind leg," explained the commander bluntly, as though the fact had been as clear as printed headlines. "I took advantage of it."

And shown him the flaw in his actions...in ways Vector swore no one else could, as he had always achieved the upper hand.

Always - until meeting this man. But _meeting_ did not yet mean _understanding._

Too many details about HUNK were still missing and always would be, Vector suspected. It didn't matter if he had informed him of his military background and history - his nature was to remain an enigma. Very few could get a finger hold on what made him so successful and only chosen ranks were allowed to see him in action. Most of the mystery, with Vector being the exception as his chosen protege, left many to theorize what filled in the blanks.

Even Vector did that enough, for as much time as he spent following in his footsteps.

From the training grounds, they traveled to the barracks and utilized the communal shows, shedding their muddied gear in tandem. For soldiers, the process of bathing was mechanical. To perform the act in public was a privilege not available nor important to soldiers. Neither thought twice of the act but merely performed it without hesitation, blind to each other throughout.

Some degree of acknowledgement was inevitable. Vector's keen eyes had witnessed scars embedded in his mentor's flesh - proof of his humanity and evidence of missteps and yet also testaments to his endurance. But for a man so well versed in battle for so long, HUNK did not harbor as many marks as one would anticipate, given the duration and intensity of his career...and not only that, but the years of military service deployment that predated his enlistment with the USS.

Even decades of full immersion in the military lifestyle did not shape HUNK entirely. Even the most strict soldiers had their own idiosyncrasies. The Alpha commander was very particular about how he maintained standards and his environment. One could hold his tendencies accountable for his perfectionistic qualities and success...but for how collected and detached HUNK seemed, there were rare exceptions.

Vector felt honored that he could eat in his presence. For whatever reason, the Alpha Commander refused to sit with the team and ingest his MRE's. He always excused himself as though he had another responsibility to tend to...or in the event that they were in transit in a chopper, busied himself with checking weapons conditions and inventory or slept.

"Maybe it's 'cause he stores snacks in his mask and he chops away as he's killin' shit," chuckled Beltway during one of Wolfpack's hushed discussions. Because they weren't particularly interested in getting caught talking about that particular superior officer.

"Maybe your face makes him ill," suggested Four Eyes.

It was a good retort. Vector approved of it, even as Beltway deflected it with a snort and cupped his square chin, scratching it in thought. Then he pointed his finger upward in an _Aha! _gesture of discovery.

"Naw, but I know! Maybe he _is_ really a cyborg! Gotsta charge his battery instead. That would make a lotta sense. Umbrella's techs probably built 'im."

"They can't even get their stealth camo right," scoffed Vector, having demonstrated that truth at the least convenient times. "Guess again."

"You tell us, _Mr. Special,_" said Beltway, leaning in as though to sink his teeth into some huge secret. "You seen him do it."

He had, but he didn't say anything more. Instead, he rolled his eyes dismissively and crossed his arms, leaning into his chair stubbornly.

In all the situations he had seen HUNK in, the only time he had seemed remotely unnerved was while eating. Something about it didn't seem to jibe with the man. Far be it for eating to seem unnatural to a human but he was the exception, having stared at his food for a good half hour during that first sit down. Almost like he didn't know what to do with it. He had hesitated, _hesitated, _seemingly overwhelmed with the effort the first number of bites took. His anxiety had been all but tangible, leaving Vector thoroughly befuddled. Of all the mutated monstrosities they had encountered, and all the death defying HUNK had done - _eating_ put the soldier at the end of his rope?

It wasn't just the MRE's, which were intentionally terrible, that troubled him. The meals from Rockfort's mess hall were quite palatable and even then, it had taken time and Vector's consistent disregard for HUNK to integrate his presence into his routine.

Between them, there was a special bond - one that could not be so easily labeled as that of brothers in arms. They were wired the same way and spoke the same language without language at all. There remained an undercurrent of visceral understanding. Absent was the sense of monachopsis that had felt so common to Vector. It was as though they were constructed of the same material...cut from the same fabric...and were fluent in each other's idiosyncratic nature.

They were two lone wolves that hunted together...and that made them all the more dangerous.

Likely that was why Umbrella had assigned them separately and went beyond to refuse the protege a position of authority. They wanted to remain the puppeteers, controlling everyone below them. That they were so convinced of their empowerment proved the degree of their ignorance.

And yet HUNK, for reasons Vector failed to comprehend, had absolute loyalty to them. In that aspect, his mentor remained an enigma. Surely Death's undying devotion was not dependent on a contract, as money had little value to him. Furthermore, there were always entities capable of paying the prices a man with his reputation commanded. There was something far more profound behind his allegiance...but then HUNK was invaluable to the corporation, who paid him their highest respects.

Wolfpack, in contrast, was disposable. The fallout of Raccoon City had proven that. Then again, the executives didn't have the lethal means of disposing of them without another capable unit to replace them.

And so Delta team waited.

* * *

Umbrella watched them interact - Vector could feel it. There were countless cameras installed throughout their complexes and likely more that weren't visible to the naked eye. In fact, he had commented on it to his superior...but as always, HUNK remained detached.

"They're watching again," the recon artist had growled, hyper aware of the lens focusing and rotating toward them.

"Let them." The typical brush-off.

Did he have a choice?

HUNK didn't need to remind him that they were also listening and recording everything. If anything, Vector wanted them to hear him. He had nothing to hide and he wasn't a fucking coward. He wasn't their _equal._

"What are their goddamn reasons?" hissed Vector, securing the assault rifle he had retrieved to its rack with more force than necessary. "We're taking inventory, for fuck's sake. Are they so paranoid as to question _routine_?"

HUNK said nothing, initially. The truth was apparent. Indeed, they were partaking in a responsibility that was performed frequently. Not wanting to add fuel to his protege's fire, he refrained from mentioning that Umbrella's additional attention was reserved only in the event of Vector's participation. They did not watch the task when he performed it in isolation.

Intuitive as Vector was, he had figured that shit out. No doubt executive Umbrella, the fucking tightwads they were, expected retaliation from the unit they had left for dead. They goddamn deserved it and no doubt saw him as the highest risk of it.

If HUNK would only stand besides him, Vector would have ensured that everyone above them get their throats slit from ear to ear...but that wasn't going to happen. What a disappointment. He knew the other members of Wolfpack weren't thrilled about things either but they were more willing to put their noses down and assume their positions. It wasn't that they wanted to avoid Umbrella's wrath...but that they didn't want to be on the receiving end of HUNK's.

They knew the likelihood that HUNK would be ordered to exterminate them in the event that they sought revenge or fled.

Among themselves, Wolfpack had secured an area and discussed a course of action, only to decide that there wasn't yet one. No one wanted to react just yet. Their necks had been on the line too recently already. In his anger, Vector was less of a planner and more of a wrecking ball than they had expected. They decided it was best if he get HUNK on their side and either lit fire to Umbrella until they were ash or wait until Umbrella met a demise of their own doing.

Vector had spat out a laugh, knowing his mentor's obedience. It was unwavering. He might have had loyalty to the man he respected but the allegiance was only mutual to a point. Having HUNK end him was preferable to another tool of Umbrella doing it, in the unlikely event they could find one capable. What Wolfpack really wanted was to break off into their own unit and freelance with the highest bidder. They could be the most successful band of mercenaries and nothing like the UBCS.

As if HUNK hadn't made his opinions of hired guns obvious enough when they had descended into Birkin's laboratory. He had verbally spit on them in repulsion.

It wasn't until Umbrella played a more tangible card from their hand that Vector nearly busted their fucking cameras - but he did flip them off. And he spoke anything but quietly, reminding himself of the caustic tones he had spat at Command throughout Raccoon City.

They had denied him the opportunity to assist HUNK in training the new recruits - and not only that, had forbid him from being present and helping administer advanced firearms training as he had time and time again.

As if they could dull his skills by distancing him from demonstrations. He didn't need constant training to maintain his efficacy. He was a fucking _soldier. _They could take their mine throwers and spark shots up their asses and pull the triggers.

"What do you fuckers think you're going to accomplish?" he'd snapped, wolf jaws all but dripping.

HUNK interjected, voice stern and commanding.

"Stand down," he ordered. And when Vector opened his mouth to argue, reached out to seize his subordinate by the bicep, nearly tearing him from his feet in the process.

It stunned him like a bucket of ice. HUNK didn't get physical unless they were training and there he was, forced by the soldier to stare into the frosted sea of his boring eyes.

Vector shut his mouth and swallowed, skin burning.

"Don't give them reason to doubt your loyalty," HUNK directed, and added with intention, "Or your intelligence. You fucked up once. Don't fuck up again. There are no third chances."

Sneering, Vector jerked his arm away and succeeded because HUNK allowed it. He felt so disgruntled to have been corrected. To have it on display to their prying spectators furthered his resentment to the entire fucked situation.

"You're better than this," warned HUNK, visage constructed only of that strong stoicism. "I trained you better. Don't forget it."

After that, Vector kept his distance. He recognized later that HUNK's interference had been akin to his actions in Birkin's lab. In shutting down his verbal attack on Umbrella, his superior had slammed the door shut on the monstrosity and allowed him to survive and recuperate.

The more he thought about it, the more it made sense.

* * *

Years later, it the unthinkable happened.

HUNK's radio silence, when he fell off the radar, was _loud._

It troubled Vector. Kept him up at night. Made his fingers twitch restlessly and his teeth grit.

He waited. He waited. He _waited_ until he went nearly mad with it.

He watched his phone like a hawk. Awaited alerts to his email accounts. He reached out to the other members of Wolfpack and told them to put out feelers, and search for signs of him, just as he did.

Some would consider it inevitable, but never had they ceased contact. Never. Even after Umbrella's downfall, when Wolfpack had decided to freelance as mercenaries, and HUNK had opted to keep his activities covert, they had regularly touched bases.

Even after that snobby cunt started trying to manipulate him and a disagreement had stemmed from her interference, they had maintained communication.

The last message HUNK had sent him said that he had found a group "with Umbrella's ambitions". That in itself had been unsettling for two reasons: one, because they weren't Umbrella and therefore weren't as inclined to keep HUNK, and two, because bioterrorists came with inherent risks.

He knew those dangers and challenges were what drew his mentor in like an addiction. He didn't have any particular reason to believe that HUNK had anything against the world or wanted its destruction, however likely the threat of biological warfare made it.

He was predisposed to believe that HUNK could handle it all. That he, like Death incarnate, was undefeatable. But all it took was a slip of a drug or a virus in the form of a mandatory immunization. Or an undetectable gas dispersed without a respirator present. Even HUNK couldn't survive that.

If anyone could beat the odds, it was him...but then Vector suspected that HUNK was a bit lost without Umbrella, and without Spencer, even, with virtually nothing left of the entity he had designed himself to live for. Similarly to a soldier returning from war, unable to adapt to civilian society, how could HUNK function without the one constant that had brainwashed him?

Vector had tried to warn him. He had told him to watch his back and trust no one. He had reminded him of all the teachings he had received, like his mentor had forgotten his own principles and MO.

He had tried...and he may have failed.

That was what stuck with him, same as that damning silence.


End file.
